


Headfirst

by Dusty_Forgotten (DustyForgotten)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Class Differences, F/M, Infidelity, Inspired by Music, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 16:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustyForgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: I will never end up like him.Behind my back, I already am.Keep a calendar:This way, you will always know.





	Headfirst

**Author's Note:**

> [Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet by Fall Out Boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YnQRAOiB3Co)

They met in college, plan to be married by their mid-twenties, look like something quite out of the nineteen-fifties— Phasma with her pin-curls and red lips, Hux never dressed down from business casual, their fingers laced on the rare occasions his arm’s not around her— but they’re a modern couple through-and-through. Phasma’s pursuing a doctorate in pharmacology, while Hux has already taken his business administration degree into the workforce. She researches her thesis, side of her leg brushing Hux’s under the dining table while he answers emails.

 

**Subject: re: our meeting**

**From: Ben Solo**

Hux,

I greatly enjoyed speaking with you on Friday 2/17. There is much left to discuss, specifically regarding the upcoming merger. Let me know when you’re next available.

Yours sincerely,

Ben Solo

Human Resource Coordinator

First Order Enterprises

 

**Subject: re: our meeting**

**From: Armitage Hux**

Tonight?

 

Phasma rubs the inner corner of her eye with a fingertip, careful not to pick up what’s left of her eyeliner and irritate it even more. “Alright, you insomniatic workaholic,” Phasma concedes, closing the textbook, and then her laptop, “you win.”

“It’s this or the Ambien.”

“Hux, dearest, I love you,” she assures, rounding the table to peck him on the cheek, “but not when you’re on Ambien.”

“Goodnight, Phas,” he casts, opening another email.

“Don’t stay up too late.”

He hums a response, skimming the message, and discarding it.

 

**Subject: re: our meeting**

**From: Ben Solo**

Hux,

You know where to find me.

Yours, sincerely,

Ben.

 

Hux deletes the conversation, then clicks to the Trash folder, and removes it from there as well. Upstairs, the water runs while Phasma washes off her makeup. Hux closes the browser, and sets his Macbook to standby.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It’s a short drive, but a decent walk— Hux has made the trip a few dozen times, both ways. He still doesn’t know if he’d knock, send a text, ring the bell when he gets to the door; Ben always opens before he can consider.

They don’t say anything— half the time Ben stands behind the door, so they don’t even see each other before it’s shut behind them. Suede sectional, flea-market furniture, soda stain on the carpet.

“You ordered pizza?” Hux frowns disdainfully at the box, seating himself in an often-overlooked position on the sofa, one can assume from the obvious wear patterns.

“Yeah, you want any?”

He slips off his loafers, Ben flopping down next to him. “Maybe later,” Hux confesses. He wraps one hand up in Ben’s hair, and drags him in for a kiss. Ben returns, and rubs Hux’s cheek with his thumb until he can’t tell the lipstick smudge from the flush.

Ben’s disgusting. Sometimes during sex he licks Hux’s face like a damned animal, never learned the concept of a balanced meal, still hasn’t thrown out those jeans with the hole in the crotch. It’s a miracle he ever gets himself to work on time.

Phasma was his partner for a class project they naturally aced, both hardworking and brilliant, collaborating over lunch and realizing they quite liked spending time together. (Or, perhaps just being seen together.) Then there was Ben, mumbling to himself in a CVS, family-size box of Frosted Mini Wheats under one arm and an eight-pack of Sam Adam’s dangling from his fist.

“We set a date,” Hux says, paying more attention to the time on the cable box than The X-Files, “Phasma and I.”

“Yeah?” Ben says, sliding his palm from Hux’s cheek to jaw, tilting his head and dragging his lips along the neck, “When?”

“February eleventh. Off-season for a wedding, so we can get the venue we wanted, and we’ll still be on honeymoon by Valentine’s Day.”

“You’ll never forget the anniversary.”

“We don’t _do_ anniversaries, Ben.”

“Yeah, I know,” he agrees, reaching for the remote on a coffee table with a couple pages from the phone book folded up under one leg, “just combining holidays, right?”

“It’s practical that way,” Hux mumbles as Ben turns down the volume.

“You’re in the wrong place if you want practical…”

Hux grabs the forearm that grasps the back of the sofa as Ben leans over the side for something. He crawls up, until his chest rests on Ben’s back, and says into the crook of his neck, “If I wanted _practical_ right now, I’d be in bed with my fianceé.” Ben swallows, thickly, shaking a little in the shoulders. “Don’t you think?”

He exhales toward the end table, and holds something over his shoulder. “Here.”

Hux sits up, inspects the offering. It’s a trifold wallet, RFID.

“I know you won’t use it, because it’s not _exactly_ the one you would have bought for yourself, but I’ve got to do something to keep you around.” Brown leather, one clear slot for his ID, no frivolous sleeves for photos or loyalty cards. “I know you don’t remember when we met, and I honestly don’t care. I still wanted to get you something. I know I’m lucky to have you. No matter how little I get.”

Hux worries Ben’s neck with his teeth until he’s met with a groan. “How about you go reheat some of that pizza?”

“Fine, fine,” Ben giggles, “let me up.”

Hux rolls off him, freeing his phone from his pocket and tossing it on the coffee table.

Ben pauses the show. “I thought you were coming, so I got peppers, even though I think they taste like plants.”

“Good boy,” Hux responds, unloading his other pocket while Ben prepares the leftovers. His old wallet looks almost identical to the one Ben got him. He hadn’t even noticed it was wearing out.


End file.
